


Four-Leaf Clover Wish

by sinesofinsanity



Category: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e06 Who's Alice, Family, Gen, Mention of canonical character death (sort of), Minor Character(s), Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinesofinsanity/pseuds/sinesofinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she was 7 years old, Millie made a wish on a four-leaf clover. Two days later, the wish came true.</p><p>Or:<br/>The worst thing to ever happen to Alice, may result in the best thing to ever happen to the little sister she didn't know she had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four-Leaf Clover Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to PB7 and DreamYourOwnDestiny for the beta help :)
> 
> Apologies to Jane Austen.

When she was 7 years old, Millie made a wish on a four-leaf clover. John Knightley, who had been visiting with his mother at the time, teased her, calling her a baby for believing in wishes and stupid for not knowing that four-leaf clovers were in fact for luck. She had stuck out her tongue at him and been reprimanded for unladylike behaviour. Two days later, the wish came true.

“You’re my sister?”

The strange woman’s hand shook where she still clutched Father’s arm, “Y-yes, I suppose.”

“Can y-“

“Millie hush.” Mother cut her off, squeezing her shoulder to let her know the harsh tone was not meant in anger. “Run on up to the house, we’ll be along shortly.”

“But-“

“Run along.”

Millie left, at the top of the hill she looked back. Mother was saying something and beckoning toward the house. The woman, Alice, _my sister,_ was wiping her face and kept glancing at the trees as though expecting them to join the conversation. With a delighted skip, Millie ran the rest of the way to the house.

She had a sister! The wish had not come true in the way she expected, certainly not in the usual way these types of wishes came true, but she knew deep down this was what she had truly wanted. A little sister was fun certainly – someone to share secrets with, and have adventures with, and laugh at sisters-only jokes that no one else understood – but a _big_ sister, a big sister was all that and more. A big sister would know the best places to have adventures, would know the little tricks to make chores fun, would know the fascinating grown-up secrets that Mother didn’t suspect Millie knew about. Marianne Dashwood from down the road had a big sister who was married and lived in town, but before she’d wed Miss Elinor Dashwood had been an idol of the two young girls. Millie knew her big sister would be even better. Her big sister was _magic_.

“Mrs. Vernon! Mrs. Vernon!” She shouted once she forced open the heavy front door. The old housekeeper came running from the kitchen, flour dusting her faded print dress and trailing off her apron.

“Goodness child, what’s all this?”

“Alice is here!” cried Millie, bending to catch her breath.

“Hmmph,” with a frown, Susan Vernon turned back to the kitchen. She had worked for the Wentworths up the road for twenty years but sometimes this one little girl’s tales were more hassle than all four of the Wentworth boys put together. “Who’s Alice then? You been playin’ at catching faeries in your butterfly net again? You know your mum don’t like you doin’ that.”

“She’s not a faerie, she’s my sister. I didn’t know I had one because Father thought she was dead, but she’s not!” Millie did a twirl and followed the housekeeper into the kitchen. “She’s here and she’s going to teach me all about being grown-up and mysterious.” Millie grabbed her own apron and turned to help measure flour for the rolls. She wasn’t quite sure what “mysterious” meant, but she’d heard the word in association with faerie stories and had decided it was something to aspire to be.

“Enough of that now, don’t go growing up a’fore your time. That’s just asking for tr-“ she stopped staring at the doorway. There was a gasp and then Alice had flung herself across the room and thrown her arms around the bewildered Mrs. Veron. Millie grinned at her parents, in all the excitement of telling, she hadn’t even heard the door open. Mother did not grin back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Babbled Alice, stepping back and wiping at the fresh tears that had started when she saw her childhood home, “Mrs. Vernon it’s good to see you, I- I didn’t know- didn’t know that you… a-and I– “

“Come, Alice.” Father beckoned gently, “Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down.” Alice nodded mutely and allowed herself to be led out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

“Ma’am,” croaked Mrs. Vernon after a stunned moment, “I’ll be taking the rest of the day off if you please.”

 

* * *

 

Alice didn’t come to dinner that night. Father had said she wasn’t feeling well and Mother had commented that coming back from the dead was like to do that to a person. Millie didn’t think she’d ever seen her father look so tired.

After dinner Millie’s parents sat down with her and explained that her sister had been through an _ordeal_ and that Millie needed to be quiet and smart and calm to help show her how a proper lady should behave. This was, of course, all backwards. Marianne’s big sister was always the one to demonstrate how a proper lady should behave, so if Alice didn’t know there was no reason Millie should be expected to. She didn’t point this out.

It took unnaturally long for Millie to fall asleep that night. Her mind was racing with plans regarding her new big sister. The games they would play, the questions she would ask, maybe Alice would have a beau! Or would know about romantic things like _being asked to dance!_ She had made up her mind that Alice would go to a dance and come home to tell Millie all about it when she sat up with a start. There was a strange noise in the kitchen below.

Silently, she slipped from her room. John had taught her to sneak; she placed her feet down softly and stayed close to the edge of the hall to avoid creaks. There was no longer any noise, but by now she could see the light from the kitchen stove. Barely breathing, she peered around the door.

Alice was eating from a loaf of bread. She had lit no candles, illuminated only by the stove and the moonlight from the window. The honey pot was sitting open on the table. Millie stared as her sister devoured the bread, alternately ripping off pieces to dip directly in the honey pot or tearing at the loaf with her teeth like a savage. She moved around as she ate, eyes drinking in the details of the kitchen, occasionally putting up a hand to touch some object or other. She avoided the window.

The bread was nearly gone when the kettle on the stove began to boil. Alice set down the food, dusted off her front and lifted the kettle, murmuring to herself as she went. Pouring the water into a small teapot she had prepared, the ghost of a smile played across her face. Millie could feel an answering smile tugging at her own cheeks, but froze when the scene changed. It started with her sister’s hands shaking, the murmuring turned into hiccups and strained breathing, hot water splashed onto the table around the teapot. Alice gasped “No” and pulled one hand at a time from the kettle; it clattered onto the table with a hiss where water hit the hot metal. Burying her face in her hands Alice sank to the floor with a sob and she sat, rocking slightly, shoulders shaking.

Millie ran down the hall. She didn’t know what was going on, but it was clearly a grown-up problem and that meant getting a grown-up to solve it. She was halfway to Mrs. Vernon’s rooms before remembering that the housekeeper had been given the next day off as well to deal with the shock of Alice’s return and so would be at her sister’s place, where she always went on days off. She paused for no more than a minute before turning to the stairs and her parent’s bedroom.

“Mother, you have to come quick! You need to help!” She whispered, shaking her mother’s shoulder.

“Hmmm,” Mother cracked a single eye open, “Dearest, what is it? Is something the matter?”

“It’s Alice. I think she’s sick, or sad, or – or something. She sitting in the kitchen and crying and shaking and spilling tea and-“

“Hush now.” Slowly, Millie’s mother sat up and put her face level with her daughter’s, “We mustn’t wake your father, he’s had a very difficult day.” She stood carefully, checked her husband, and put on a robe. Millie thought she would have to stamp her foot in frustration. Why were grown-ups so slow!

By the time they got to the kitchen it was empty. The fire had been banked, the kettle replaced on its hook and most of the water cleaned up. Only the open honey pot and a slightly soggy heel of bread remained to indicate anyone had been there. Millie’s mother sighed, rubbed her forehead, and sent Millie back to bed, before sitting down at the table. Millie didn’t ask what she was thinking.

 

* * *

 

The next day Millie awoke earlier than expected, given how late she'd fallen asleep, to the soft sound of voices in the hall. She rushed through getting dressed and peered into the hallway to see her mother standing at Alice's door holding a simple white dress.

"I'm afraid I don't have many things that will fit you," she was saying, eyeing the dress with a frown. "We shall have to take you into town when it is next convenient. Try this for now, though with your height I worry it will be too short."

Alice was sitting on the chesterfield staring straight ahead. "It doesn't matter." She said softly. "Nothing really matters anymore."

"Alice, if you wish to be a part of this family, you must learn to be happy with what you have. Now here, put on this dress and join us for breakfast." Mother held out the dress but did not step further into the room.

A small smile played across Alice's lips but did not reach her eyes. "Breakfast perhaps, but I would never wish for happiness. That is not a simple wish at all, and I know now the price is much too great." She looked up suddenly; her smile grew wide and cheery, still not reaching her eyes. "But I will try. Thank you for the dress, I will wear whatever pleases you." She stood and stepped forward, reaching for the clothing.

Millie rushed in, "Mother, can Alice do my hair?" She held out the brush hopefully. Marianne's sister had sometimes helped the younger girls with their hair, but Millie had been too young and silly to take advantage of it. Now she was a calm and mature 7-year-old and her sister had appeared yesterday with ribbons in her hair. Millie loved hair ribbons.

"I will do your hair this morning," replied her mother, taking the brush gently, "Let's leave Alice to get settled."

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Millie was trying very hard to be calm and ladylike, and Alice was silent except to ask for the strawberry preserves. Millie watched her sister for any hint of last night's performance, but Alice simply spread the preserves on a slice of bread as neatly and carefully as any well-bred lady, and took small bites. Briefly Millie considered dipping her own bread in the honey pot, just to see how Alice would react, but discarded the idea when she couldn't figure out how to do it without mother noticing.

Near the end of the meal Alice asked quietly what she was expected to do that day and Millie had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. It would not do to smile at the lost and confused look that passed over Alice's and Father's faces at that question, but the expressions were mirrored so perfectly that even if she were inclined to disbelieve it there would be no way to doubt the two were related.

"I suppose," began Mother, coming to their rescue, "For today it would be best for you to recuperate. Edwin will give you some newspapers so you can catch up on what you missed while you were, well, away. I have some visiting to do and shall be sure to mention you in the right light. The important thing is to behave as though this is all perfectly normal and we'll get through with a minimum amount of fuss."

"Normal." muttered Alice, staring at her plate, "Of course."

Mother's mouth tightened to a thin line but she didn't say anything. Millie wanted to ask if being normal was difficult for someone who disappeared and reappeared like Alice the way that being ladylike was difficult for someone who enjoyed running and asking too many questions like her, but Mother sent her to get her school books before she got a chance.

Millie attended lessons with Catherine Morland’s governess Miss Price alongside Marianne, John, and John's brother George. While she often walked the distance to the Morland's by herself, today Mother accompanied her so as to visit with Mrs. Morland before continuing on. Millie had hoped that meant Alice would come along as well, or if not, that she would get a chance to ask her mother what was going to happen next, and what it meant for their family to have a new member. Instead Millie's mother spent the walk explaining that it would probably be best if Millie didn't immediately share the news about Alice with the other children. This didn't make much sense as, if everything were normal then Millie sharing news about a big sister was the most normal thing in the world; but when she said as much Mother had frowned and made her promise to at least wait until she could speak with the other children's mothers.

Unfortunately, this promise made lessons brutally slow for Millie. She was itching to tell someone her news, and could hardly think of anything to say that wouldn't lead back to Alice. By the time Mother, and Mrs. Darcy who had come along for the walk, arrived to pick her up in the afternoon she was practically bouncing out of her chair.

She raced ahead of the more sedately walking women, chasing her own excitement down the lane. If she hadn't slowed down to round the corner before the house she'd have missed the bit of movement in the garden.

Alice knelt there, almost hidden between beanpoles, pulling at the weeds that had been steadily taking over as Millie's father was too busy to attend the garden or hire a boy to attend it for him. She was once again wearing the strange clothes she had showed up in the day before, her hair pulled back in a lopsided braid and a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

Stepping quickly -as she was not allowed to run in the garden- Millie tried to think of the best question to ask. _What are you doing?_ was too obvious, clearly Alice was weeding, and _Are you crazy?_ was probably rude.

"Why are you doing that?" she settled on. Millie's mother had told Alice to "recuperate", and though Millie wasn't sure how one normally recuperated, it seemed like as good an excuse as any to avoid weeding.

Alice looked up suddenly, "Oh!" She tilted her head to peer down the lane behind Millie, then relaxed and resumed her chore. "I don't sit still very well."

Millie nodded, knowing the feeling; it didn't really answer the question though. "But then why are you weeding?"

"It's one of the only things I can do, to help out that is, as I don't know where anything is in the house anymore." A particularly nasty weed made her stop for a moment to finish pulling it out. "Besides, it feels good to be outside and doing work that helps thing grow, helps the littlest plant to live."

A small smile appeared, and for the first time Millie saw Alice smile with her eyes instead of just her lips. It made her seem more real and less like an apparition from a story. But she was smiling like that over _weeding_ , when she could have been doing anything else.

Those thoughts must have been clear in Millie's expression as Alice laughed shortly. "Don't worry. I climbed the tree down in the glade first."

Millie smiled. That was her favourite tree. Now she knew her and Alice were going to be great friends as well as sisters. They would climb trees, and race down the lane, and share stories, and have picnics, and talk about dances, and - "Where did you _go_?" she burst out, unable to contain her thoughts any longer.

A shadow crossed over Alice's eyes, the smile was gone. "I don't think your mother would want me to talk to you about that."

"But she's still up the lane with Mrs. Darcy. I ran ahead, they're ages away yet."

"Up the lane?" Alice sat up straight then stood, wiping the mud from her hands on her trousers. "Then I'd best go change. I don't want to appear ungrateful by not wearing the dress she gave me, but it wouldn't show much gratitude if I got it all dirty either. Oh dear." she put a shaking hand to her forehead and tilted her head back, eyes closed, as though the late afternoon sun would shine the answers directly into her brain. "It should not be this difficult." She turned and walked toward the house.

This was not the reaction Millie had wanted. How had she made such a mess of things? "Alice!" she called, her sister paused at the door and looked back, curious, "Um... You can borrow one of my hair ribbons, if you like, to go with the dress?" It was all she could think to offer.

Alice smiled the sad smile she'd worn this morning. "Thank you Millie.”

 

* * *

 

To say that dinner went well was an overstatement. Father left the table looking worn; he'd come home from the office tired and had continued to work through the evening, writing letters to be sent with the morning train, until past when Millie was sent to bed. Mother had seemed pleased from her visits with the ladies of the village and after a period of tense silence during the main course, had carried light conversation through dessert about the goings-on of her church committee. Alice had been cheerful, if a tad shaky, for the beginnings of the meal, but her mood had collapsed after mother brought up the suggestion of meeting a suitable young man. She had been quiet, though polite, until the last plate had been cleared away when she'd excused herself to the study to catch up on some reading. When Millie stopped in later to beg Mother's help with her needlepoint, Alice was sitting in a chair at the far side of the room from Father's work desk. Not once did she look up from her book or speak a word the entire time Mother was showing Millie the proper stitches, but neither did Millie notice her turning any pages. Still, she had smiled and relaxed just a bit when Millie had told her she looked beautiful in the white dress, and she had indeed borrowed a hair ribbon, so Millie decided they were probably friends now.

Once again that night a noise woke her, this time coming from Alice's room. Not even bothering with a robe she raced in to shake her sister awake. Millie had her own experiences with nightmares and didn't want anyone to be stuck in one.

Alice had seemed reluctant to talk about her dream, but Millie knew that anything was better than trying to go right back to sleep after a nightmare. More importantly, she was suddenly alone with Alice with no chance of her parents interrupting, and she was desperate to learn something about her suddenly appearing sister.

Unfortunately, “no chance” of her parents coming in turned into “every chance” when they showed up before Alice could finish explaining the name she’d been screaming or telling Millie about boys. They did not look too happy to see Millie out of bed, again, and she just knew she was going to get into a horrid amount of trouble for it.

Since Mother didn’t stop in to talk to Millie about being out of bed late at night, she dawdled in the morning in the hope that by breakfast time her nighttime wanderings would be forgotten. As a result, she missed the terrible row that happened at breakfast, only catching the very end when Alice stormed out the door and Mother rushed through an apology to Mrs. Darcy’s son. Millie couldn’t remember his name, but assumed he was boring as he never had a good answer for her questions when she visited the Darcys’ with her mother.

Mother rushed her through breakfast, then hustled her off lessons with another reminder not to speak of Alice just yet to the other children. Millie thought this was blatantly unfair, clearly Mother had spoken with _some_ of the other women in the village about Alice, otherwise why was young Mr. Darcy visiting for breakfast? She didn’t think of this argument until after lunch and nearly flew home after lessons in her eagerness to explain it to Mother.

The house was quiet when she arrived. Mother had been out visiting, but had accepted a ride in Mr. Knightley’s carriage when the morning mist had turned to afternoon drizzle. Mr. Knightley, stopping by the Morland’s house to deliver this message on his way home from the village, had offered to drive Millie as well, but she much preferred to run, even if it meant getting a little wet; besides, riding in the carriage meant riding with John and George who had been making fun of her again for talking about hunting for faeries. She expected Mother to be waiting for her when she arrived home. Instead, Mother and Father were talking quietly in the study. The conversation stopped abruptly when Mother spotted Millie in the hall.

“Come in Dearest, tell us about your day.” Mother called. Before Millie could even start talking about Alice, Father began to quiz her about something Millie had been learning last week. Millie loved answering questions almost as much as she loved asking them and soon was too distracted to remember to ask about her sister.

 

* * *

 

She was reminded at dinner though, when Alice did not come down, though a place had been set for her. When Mother came into the dining room she had frowned at the table for a moment, then picked up the extra setting and brought it back to the kitchen.

“Alice will not be joining us, Mrs Vernon, she is feeling unwell.”

The housekeeper made a noise that in a lesser woman Millie would have described as “Harrumph” and took the plate and utensils back to the dining room. “That girl’s been missing for years ma’am and got back yesterday lookin’ as not a day ‘ad gone by. No tellin’ what a body ‘at does that is liable to do. Best set her a place just in case.” Mother seemed to have no argument for that.

“Mother, why isn’t Alice coming to dinner?” asked Millie once the family had been seated.

“As I said, she’s feeling ill.” replied Mother, sharing an odd look with Father.

Millie wondered if Alice’s sudden illness had something to do with her being magical, but decided that would be one of those questions that grown-ups refused to answer. Instead she asked “Can I tell Marianne about Alice tomorrow? You already told Mrs. Darcy, and by now she’ll have told everybody that her son came to breakfast.” Mrs. Darcy was not a gossip about anybody except her own children, about whom she could barely help but brag, even if they did nothing worth bragging about.

Father let out a long, slow sigh. “Millie, I’m afraid,” he paused, reaching into his pocket for his glasses and cleaning cloth, “I’m afraid Alice will not be staying with us after all.”

“Why not?” she asked shocked at this news. Alice had barely been home for two days! The two of them hadn’t had time to do any of the sisterly things Millie had planned.

“She is, well,” He finished cleaning his glasses and replaced them in his pocket, “Ah, that is, she is unwell, and will be going to a place to get better.”

“A hospital.” Supplied Millie’s mother, at the expression on Father’s face she amended, “Of sorts.”

“When will she come back?” asked Millie, she hadn’t had time to talk with her sister _at all_. What was the point of a big sister if she was just going to go away as soon as she arrived?

Father looked down at his plate; Mother hesitated for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, someday perhaps. Where she’s going truly is the best place to help her to get better, and when she does we will welcome her back, but for now, it would be best if you not speak of this to the other children. It would be too confusing for them.”

Millie didn’t think it would be any more confusing to the other children than it was for her, but remained quiet for the rest of the meal. The unfairness of it all baffled her. Two days wasn’t nearly enough time to spend with a sister, especially a magic sister who could disappear and reappear. Millie had been secretly hoping that Alice could teach her that trick, once she was finished teaching her about hair ribbons, climbing trees, dances, and being grown-up, naturally. Perhaps Millie could even have taught Alice about catching faeries or how to escape from nightmares. If Alice could only stay longer, a week at least! Millie poked at her dinner. Mother and Father spoke briefly about father’s work but otherwise were silent. Alice did not come down.

 

* * *

 

Alice remained shut in her room for the rest of the night. Millie figured she was probably asleep if she was so unwell as to not eat dinner. She was woken up again by a noise in the night, but by the time she got up and raced to Alice’s door the noise had stopped. Cautiously, fearing her parents would wake and not wanting to be caught out of bed for a third night in a row, Millie had opened the door and peered in, but Alice had been lying still, her back to the door, so Millie assumed the nightmare had left on its own. Padding back to her room she tried to think of a way to help her sister. Alice certainly didn’t look unwell. But then, she figured as she climbed back into bed, Alice was unusual, so this couldn’t be a usual sickness. In fact, she realized, since Alice was magical, this was probably a magical illness, and would need a magical cure. That must be why she needed to go away, they didn’t have any magic here.

A sudden though had her sitting up in bed, a wide grin stretching across her face. There _was_ magic here, Millie had used some not five days ago, and knew exactly where to find more.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Millie raced through getting dressed and clattered downstairs and out to the back garden. What Alice needed was a four-leaf clover. Millie had wished her here with one, she could use it to wish Alice better. Or Alice could. Maybe Alice could even wish for her Cyrus too if Millie could find more than one four-leaf clover. She wasn’t sure what the rules for four-leaf clover wishes were, but she decided to find two of them just in case.

Millie had been in such a rush to run out to the back garden she didn’t check the breakfast table to see if anyone was waiting there. If she had she might have noticed that no one was eager to start breakfast that morning. In her hurry she hadn’t seen Mother and Father standing quietly in the front room, and by the time she had found her four-leaf clovers and come back in to show them off, she was too late to see the doctor in the black carriage arrive and take Alice away.


End file.
